


Closer Than Your Enemies

by JustACandle



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Helis x his wife, dialogue what dialogue, holy shit this is a bit much innit, not exactly 'smut' but shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:57:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustACandle/pseuds/JustACandle
Summary: “He's the most dangerous man in the world”, she had heard a man say once. All stories that were told within Meridian only supported that idea. Ruthless, cold, unquestionably devoted to his cause and religion, he was as beloved among the Carja as he was feared.This did not make her feel any better.





	Closer Than Your Enemies

   Within the Carja, as with any culture, there were certain unspoken rules; in particular: when a Kestrel desires a wife, it's dishonorable to turn him down. This is especially true when that Kestrel also happens to be the Champion of the Sun. Such unions were more a matter of duty than love, and so based on compatibility and not emotion. Within two weeks of the start of his search for a wife, Helis had narrowed it down to five women. After brief meetings with each woman, he had made his choice.

Their marriage had been arranged over the course of three months, and finalised without the pair having spent any decent amount of time together. This was fairly normal; it mattered more that the Kestrel felt some connection than how the woman felt. If it _had_ mattered, if anyone had bothered to ask, she could have told them quite plainly- she was terrified. For duty's sake, she would never back out.

“He's the most dangerous man in the world”, she had heard a man say once. All stories that were told within Meridian only supported that idea. Ruthless, cold, unquestionably devoted to his cause and religion, he was as beloved among the Carja as he was feared.

This did not make her feel any better.

Neither had her brief encounter with him, which had played out more like an interview than anything else. Afterwords, her back had gone stiff and sore from the tension built up along her spine, her jaw refused to unclench for hours, and twin arcs of crescents spread across both palms from where her nails had dug in. Not that he had threatened her in any way- to the contrary, he had been a calm and loosely polite man, but his reputation clung to him in a stifling cloud and his gaze was unsettling to a skin-crawling degree.

 

   The wedding itself was the traditional Carjan affair, full of color and music and lasting the better part of two days. Jiran himself was present, although at a distance, standing on a balcony of the palace with the sun shining down on him as flags waved and flower petals drifted through the air. After the festivities, the newly joined couple were paraded to their apartments- a gift from her parents. While Helis took care of a few pressing affairs, she retired to their bedroom and attempted to prepare herself as best she could.

In theory, she knew what was supposed to happen. In _practice_ , however, she was all but clueless. Helis, surely, was plenty experienced and likely she wouldn't even have to do much.

“Just make sure he's pleased.” was the only bit of advice her mother had given her. Given the stories about him, “the most dangerous man in the world”, she fully expected a violent affair with bruises in the morning. She settled herself on the edge of the bed, back straight as a ray of sunlight, fists clenched and planted solidly on her knees.

 

   He entered the room without knocking and she was not even the first thing he looked at. His gaze went out the window, where sounds from the feasting still taking place drifted in with a few stray petals of red and gold. He hardly made a sound as he crossed the room, unhooking his cape and letting it drop to the floor. Halfway across the room he finally looked at her, sideways, rather like the way you'd approach an animal you weren't too sure about, holding out your hand so they can approach at their comfort. Helis did not hold out his hand to her. In fact, he seemed a touch uncomfortable and with a jolt she realised that he didn't know what to do either.

Well that helped a bit.

To be honest, she could handle raw nerves and a healthy amount of fear better than she could handle the awkward tension that had filled the room, and this was the main reason why she forced herself to rise on shaking legs, taking deep breaths with each step she took towards him until only a slight tremor ran through her knees and she stood before him. Her eyes locked on his, and the fear began to slip away. She took his hand and led him back to the bed.

It was not violent, like she had thought it would be. It was unsteady, a bit sloppy, but above all it was humanizing to find a Kestrel panting and moaning just the same as she was and by the time he had rolled off of her and she lay staring at the ceiling, breathing hard, she was almost unafraid. She drifted into a light sleep as the sun was setting.

 

   Something was off. She opened her eyes to a dim room and a bare stretch of bed beside her. She rolled slowly to her side, facing the room. Dark enough that the far walls were a blur, the shadow of the room was broken across the floor by moonlight flung in through the window, and resting within that light was a large pale form. Helis lay naked in the light, eyes closed, arms resting across his chest. Slowly, carefully, she rose from the bed, brushing the thin sheet off as she crept across the floor, light as she could.

She stood a moment, staring down at him. He was quite handsome, truth be told, with a severity to his face and a thick, well-worked body. She still could not entirely shake the tension she felt around him, but perhaps that was for the best. Damned if she wouldn't make some kind of effort, though. A large patch of moon-lit floor spread out to his right, with his feet toward the window, and she curled up there next to him, facing him- just in case.

When he stirred again she snapped awake, eyes open in an instant fixing him steadily, warily. His head had turned to her almost as soon as he awoke and for several minutes they stared at each other, his cold and unsettling eyes locked with her own. Eventually, deliberately, he closed his eyes. And he fell back asleep. She let out a long breath and let herself relax a little. Sleep came willingly.

 

   Life with Helis was not what she had expected. He was gone often and didn't bother her much when he was actually home. Within a few months they had fallen into comfortable patterns, and their interactions became increasingly less awkward, the fear creeping out of her by degrees and the uncertainty slipping away from him. Their guards never entirely came down, but such was to be expected.

She still had trouble shaking off the idea that she was flirting with disaster every time he touched her until one day when he came home and settled immediately into the cushions across from her on the floor, staring at her as she read a scroll. She read aloud for a few minutes, as he had asked her to do on occasion, finding it a kind of relaxing background noise.

Suddenly he rose mid-sentence, lunging at her as a knife came unsheathed from the small of his back. She didn't cry out, didn't try to get up and run, and instead went very still. He did not hold the blade to her throat, as she had expected he would, but gripped the front of her dress and stared her straight in the eye as he dragged the knife down it, effectively slicing it in two. With a few quick swipes he had done away with the rest of her clothing, tossing it carelessly away and returning the knife to its sheath. She tensed, as she always did, when he touched her, his hands hooking under her knees and pulling her until her back was flat against the cushions in a deep recline, the rest of her body stretched out and her legs pulled abruptly apart, the suddenness of his actions sending an unexpected thrill straight up from the pit of her stomach. Before she had really worked out what was going to happen and just as she opened her mouth to speak, he dove in- head-first, as it were -mouth connecting to the tender split between her legs. Her open mouth cried out, hands moving immediately to his head first in warning, then softening as realisation set in, her fingers tangling in his hair.

It was surreal and it shouldn't have been. The only rational thing going through her head were the man's words from before-

 

“He's the most dangerous man in the world.”

 

 _The most dangerous man in the world_ , and he held her sensitivity on his tongue, between his teeth, with a roughness that was to be expected but a gentleness that was not. _The most dangerous man in the world_ , and he rubbed circles into her thighs, her sides, her breasts, with just enough pressure to be memorable, but not enough to hurt. _The most dangerous man in the world_ who moved up to press kisses all across her with a mouth full of war cries, whose teeth had grinned, bloodied and snarling at his enemies but were now dragging down her neck. _The most dangerous man in the world_ , whose hands had killed countless, crushed skulls and wrung the breath from throats, now cupped her face, now cradled her hip as he pressed into her. A revelation came as he leaned in, eating up what little breath she had left.

Being the wife of the most dangerous man in the world did not, in fact, place her in immediate danger. In the same way that others would claim one should keep their enemies close, she thought that the closer she was to this man, the further she was from actual harm. This was a man whom on a daily basis willingly threw himself into danger with ever the possibility of death, just to keep his own- his city and his people -safe. How safe did that make her, who was, quite possibly, closer to him than any other?

His breath came ragged over her ear, his heartbeat jumped under his skin, her hand on his chest, her teeth on his shoulder, her knees clenching his rib cage. As he cried out and her back arched, her chest pressing into him, the tension released from her back. Her fingers ran through his hair as they shuddered into each other.

 

No, there was no real danger here. He could tear through millions, until he wore as much blood as ran in his veins, until he drowned in it. But this was the safest place in the world for her. No harm could come to her here.

**Author's Note:**

> woops, then she dies. Them's the brakes, Helis.


End file.
